


Peeta’s deceit. Katniss’ rage.

by sunfishdunes



Series: Mundane Everlark [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfishdunes/pseuds/sunfishdunes





	Peeta’s deceit. Katniss’ rage.

 

Today is my day. The third Saturday of every month is purely ‘Katniss’, beginning to end. I love my husband. I love my daughter. But I need these days to just _be_. I make it a point to get up early, pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt, pack a lunch and whistle for Ursa, our black Lab. I help her up into the cab of my old pickup and head toward the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest for our hike. The autumn mornings are chilly, so I sip my coffee contentedly as I weave our way through the back roads.

 

Eventually I park the Chevy and whisper, “Ready, girl? Wanna go for a walk?”

 

Ursa’s whole backend shifts back and forth and she whines, begging to be let out. I can’t help but laugh at her goofy face and open the door, watching her scramble out and immediately pee near a sugar maple. I grab my backpack and her leash (just in case) before beginning my trek.

 

God, I love it out here. I breathe in one long, deep breath until it hurts just a tiny bit, expelling the air in a gust. All I hear are Ursa’s excited pants and my own footsteps, which is the way it should be. For today, there will be no television, no telephone and no talking. _Bliss_.

 

Occasionally Ursa finds something worth a sniff and I walk ahead, but she quickly runs to catch up and again outpaces me, running back to my side if she gets too far ahead. I admire the colors that nature saved for these last weeks before the first frost. Soon enough we’ll be covered in a blanket of snow—

 

“Oof!” My foot catches on a tree root and I sprawl forward, twisting my ankle. “Shitballs!” I roll to my side and wince, looking at my palms, which now have gravel embedded in them. How in the hell could I be so careless? I look up at the leaves and curse goddamned Mother Nature.

 

“Ursa! Come here, girl!” My 70-pound dog comes bounding over and laps my face, assuming that I’m playing a game. _Hardly_. I groan and pat her head. “Day’s over, sweetie. Momma was a moron.”

 

I clean my hands as best I can and begin hobbling back to the truck. Jesus Christ, this is humiliating. _I’m_ the outdoorsy one in this family. Peeta’s going to have a field day with this. Whatever.

 

Two hours after I left and at least eight hours before I intended to be home, I’m pulling into our driveway. _Crap_. Peeta’s car isn’t in the garage, meaning he took Tess out somewhere. Swell. All I want is for someone to help me bandage my hands, wrap my ankle, settle me on the couch with some wine and bake me up some cheese buns. I’m being irrational and for once, I’d like someone to indulge me and my whiny mood. Sigh.

 

Ursa rushes inside and I close the door behind us, tossing my bag on the floor and reaching for the barstool we keep near the kitchen island. I hobble along, using it as a makeshift walker as I make my way through the kitchen and toward the bathroom to clean up. Once there, I sit on the edge of the vanity and turn on the water, hissing as the soap hits my wounds.

 

“Fuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkk. Seriously, ow. Ow!” I suck in air and close my eyes, hoping to get this over quickly. Once I’m satisfied with how clean the cuts are, I pat my hands dry on a towel and begin rooting around for some bandages or Neosporin. Tampons, barrettes, hair ties, nail clippers, dentures.

 

Dentures?

 

“Why in the hell are there teeth in my drawer?!” I yell. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I mutter, “Why in the hell are you talking to yourself?”

 

I pick up the dentures and instinctively open my mouth, holding them up to my teeth and looking in the mirror. Obviously not mine. Definitely not Peeta’s. Hell, maybe they’re part of some “My First Dental Hygienist” game or other random crap in Tess’ toy arsenal. Hmm. “My First Dental Hygienist.” Dolls are getting so educational nowadays.

 

Tossing the dentures back where I found them, I decide to let my hands air out a little and grab an ace bandage before making my way back to the kitchen. I sit at the table and bend toward the floor, quickly wrapping my ankle. It doesn’t look too bad, really. I’ve had worse. Sighing, I slowly walk to the freezer for some ice, but notice a piece of paper that’s on the floor. I lean to pick it up and quickly read the letter.

 

“No. Oh God, please no.”

 

I reread the note two or three more times, tears coursing down my face. Instinctively, I reach for the phone and dial Peeta’s number. _Please answer, please. God, please don’t let it be too late_. Dammit! No answer. I end the call and dial Prim. _She’ll know what to do. She’s a voice of reason_. Seriously?! Why isn’t anyone answering?! My last resort is Haymitch. _Pick up you asshole, pick up!_

 

“What?!”

 

I grip the phone, ignoring the pain shooting through my hands. I cry and plead, “Haymitch, he has her. _He has her_. Do you know where he took her?”

 

“Fuck. I had a feeling this would happen.”

 

“What?! You had a feeling?! You know how he gets! You should have told me, you bastard!”

 

“Calm your tits, Everdeen! Now is not the time to panic. What did the note say?”

 

I relay what I know and he agrees to meet me at the house to piece together where my deranged husband has taken my child. How could I be so stupid, especially after that night?

 

That night. Colors flood my memory. Things are too bright. Shiny. It hurt to live through. It hurts to remember. I can’t help but cry a little harder as Ursa nudges my arm worriedly with her nose.

 

“I don’t know where Tess is, baby. I don’t know!”

 

Soon enough I hear Haymitch’s car rumble down the driveway and he runs inside, the adrenaline seemingly canceling out any hangover he may be nursing. I stand there sobbing and he holds me close, trying to soothe me with promises of finding my daughter unharmed.

 

“Is anything missing, Katniss? Anything out of place?”

 

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know! I came home and, and…I found teeth, Haymitch!”

 

He rushes past me and goes upstairs. Haymitch loves Tess. She might not be blood, but the old man loves her like she was his own granddaughter. His pain and fear is palpable. I hear him bumbling around up there and then he curses, “God dammit!”

 

Ursa whines and I wait as Haymitch descends the stairs. He holds out all the evidence I need. I bury my face in my hands and sink to the floor.

 

…

 

“If I find him, I’m going to kill him.”

 

“You said that last time, sweetheart.”

 

“Yeah, well this time I mean it. This is unforgivable, Haymitch, and you know it.”

 

“I know.”

 

We drive in silence the rest of the way, me gripping the letter as though it is my only lifeline. And in a way, it is.

 

My girl. My baby girl. I was so terrified of becoming a mother, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Tess is the purest representation of my love for Peeta.

 

Peeta. _You bastard!_

 

I look out the window and try to remember any clues. Dinner last night was uneventful. Papa Murphy’s take-n-bake pizza with that really crisp crust that I love… _focus Katniss!_ Think! Okay, so dinner was normal. We talked briefly about my plans for my “day off” and Peeta sent Tess to bed early, which, now that I think about it, is uncharacteristic for a Friday night. Sent to bed for no apparent reason. I groan. God, I missed the most obvious sign.

 

“Can you go any faster?”

 

“We’re almost there. Don’t need to get delayed with a speeding ticket.”

 

Soon enough we pull up to the address scratched on the note, and I yell for Haymitch to pull into a handicapped spot.

 

“I don’t think that your foot qualifies for special parking—”

 

“Trust me, by the time I get through with him, we’re going to need one of those parking permits.”

 

I grab his arm so that he can help me walk inside. Once in the lobby, we scan the area for any clues as to where they might be. Conference room, ladies room, boiler room, business office. God! I’m running out of time!

 

“Katniss, this must be it.”

 

I swallow thickly and read the plaque. “Grand Ballroom.” A shiver runs down my spine as I feel the familiar, gritty powder under my feet. Sickos, all of them. I’m sure there’s Mountain Dew around here, too. I press my ear to the door, trying to avoid the now-brownish handprints smeared like blood, hoping for a miracle. We look at each other, take a deep breath and grab the handle, slowly pulling.

 

The spotlights blind me and my ears are assaulted with relentless beats that hardly qualify as music. But it’s what I see that causes my stomach to drop. I’m too late. I’ve failed my daughter. Haymitch grips my shoulder and I lean into him, ignoring the scent of Old Spice.

 

“Oh, Haymitch.”

 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s try to stay strong for Tess’ sake.”

 

I look around, fear turning into rage. _How dare he?_ Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to spot my husband: he’s the one standing all alone, surrounded by these crazed maniacs with side eyes, wildly nodding like an idiot, his hips moving and fingers drilling into his cheek dimples as he winks dramatically and mimics my daughter’s routine.

 

Christ on a freaking cracker, my daughter has a _routine_. Apparently my husband does, too.

 

Okay, so it isn’t really a routine. That already happened, and for Tess’ sake, I hope she did something badass like start a fire with string and quartz. Right now, the lady with the cotton candy hair is rattling off bullshit about my kid.

 

“Well, well, well! Please welcome back to the stage, contestant number 5, Miss Tess! Tess has dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. She is sporting a nautical two-piece for today’s swimwear competition, designed specifically for her by Primrose Everdeen. Miss Tess enjoys pony rides, sidewalk chalk, being a girl, and of course, baking with her daddy. Let’s give a big hand for our future baking sailor, Miss Tess!”

 

Peeta claps and shouts, “Shake it, sweetie! Daddy loves you!” Jesus God, he’s blowing kisses.

 

I shuffle down the aisle and into his row, tossing the flapper at his shoulder and hiss, “Forget something, dear? Your daughter’s fake teeth, perhaps?!”

 

“Katniss! What? What are you doing here?” He visibly pales as he sees Haymitch rounding the corner. “Haymitch? Um, Tess will be so excited to see you both here in support of her.”

 

“In support of her? _In support of her?!_ For God’s sake, you just asked our child to shake her moneymaker! What kind of fu—”

 

“Peeta, I totally just scored us some Pixy Stix from that bitch Kendra’s bag…ohmigod, Katniss? Um, we certainly didn’t expect to see you today.”

 

“Oh! _Oh!_ My child’s traitor aunt-slash-seamstress and candy heroin dealer! I should have known you’d be here the second I saw those spray tan handprints on the door!” Haymitch grabs me from behind as I lunge at Prim, who is being blocked by Peeta. “You are my _sister!_ ”

 

“Katniss, please just sit down. You’re making a scene! Think of Tess!”

 

I humpf while someone makes catcalls, reluctantly taking the seat next to Peeta. Prim is on the other side of my husband and Haymitch is next to me. I lean over and whisper into Peeta’s ear, “I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to be encouraging. But now? Now I’m disgusted.”

 

“She looks beautiful.”

 

“She looks like a baby prostitute.”

 

“She’s happy.”

 

I roll my eyes but know that I’m beat. Tess beams at us and we wave, me with a fake smile plastered on my face. Gritting my teeth I hiss, “When is this over? The minute they read the results she’s going to be hosed off and that tulle burned.”

 

Prim leans over and says, “I’d never use tulle. Tulle is tacky.”

 

“Tacky like your bump-it?”

 

“Shhhh!” Peeta whispers. “They’ll be announcing the winners in a sec. Look, Katniss, I know—”

 

“Peeta, I suggest you do yourself a favor and shut your piehole.”

 

Cotton Candy Head returns to the stage and begins announcing princesses, which is apparently a list of losers, at least according to Haymitch. _Nice_. Tess isn’t a loser, which surprisingly makes me feel, well, _not_ indifferent. Of course my child isn’t a loser princess. Some parents are crying, which is a little extreme to me. _Come on, people_. This is like dress up.

 

Tess isn’t named a queen, which is another category of non-winner. This is sort of worrisome. I mean, my daughter isn’t a princess or queen, but what if she didn’t even get an award? What if she’s below princess?

 

I lean toward Peeta. “What’s below princess?”

 

“What?”

 

“What’s below princess? Why hasn’t she been called?”

 

“Katniss, _not_ being called is a good thing. That means she might be up for ultimate grand supreme. That’s winning the whole pageant.”

 

“Oh, okay.” I start biting my nails and Peeta takes my hand from my mouth, gripping it almost painfully. “Ow. What?”

 

“Calm down, okay? Stay calm.”

 

“I am calm. I’m fine. You’re the one who brought her here to play Barbie in a $200 dress.”

 

“Make that $500,” Prim mumbles.

 

Tess is up against Destiny and Dylan. And my kid is definitely the hottest. Um, cutest. Dylan’s lisp could be either sweet or annoying. Tough to say which way it falls, but I personally think it’s a little forced. And Destiny’s hair is beginning to droop on one side.

 

“So we don’t want her to be called now, right?”

 

“Right. She’s up for supreme titles, but we need to hold out for ultimate grand supreme.”

 

Seriously, why is my heart beating so fast? I wipe my forehead and note the sweat there. “Does the lipstick work for her skintone? It looks a little cool to me.”

 

"Shhhhh!"

 

"Look, I’m just saying that Tess’ olive skin can pull off warm reds better. I’m not a complete dolt, Peeta.”

 

“Our mini grand supreme and the winner of $500 is…Dylan!” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Peeta squeezes my hand and nervously chuckles. One more name. One more and Tess wins! I don’t even care about the money. My baby would win a trophy taller than she is! I’d be the mother of an ultimate grand supreme champion!

 

“And now for our grand supreme and the winner of $1000…our nautical sweetheart—”

 

_“What?!”_ I yell.

 

“—Tess!”

 

I stand and begin making my way to the aisle. “What a crock of sh—”

 

“Haymitch, hold her!”

 

I kick the old man in the shin and continue my way up front, gesturing wildly. “It’s rigged! Are these judges even from Wisconsin? Are they qualified to make a decision like this?!”

 

Prim calls, “Katniss, no!”

 

“You can see that her hair fall doesn’t even match! Where were her sassy feet, huh?!”

 

“Mommy?” Tess’ smile falters as I near the stage, but Peeta tackles me to the ground.

 

“Mommy still loves you, Tessie,” I call from the floor. “Next time we’ll enter a classy pageant, okay? With _real_ judges. And we’ll even sign you up for those baton lessons you’ve always wanted. Would you like that?”

 

 

 


End file.
